


Peter Parker

by orphan_account



Category: Deadpool - All Media Types, Marvel, Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: Coming Out, Cross-Posted on FanFiction.Net, Cross-Posted on Wattpad, Gay, High School, Homophobia, M/M, Slow Burn, Trans Male Character, Trans Peter Parker, Transphobia, this got angsty im sorry, unsafe binding
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-16
Updated: 2017-03-19
Packaged: 2018-08-22 21:00:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,962
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8300833
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Here's the thing: Peter only gets to be Peter when he's Spider-Man. He's sure Aunt May would be accepting, but he just. Can't tell her that her niece is actually her nephew.





	1. 1

**Author's Note:**

> this doesnt take place in any particular comic/movie/cartoon verse, its just a mix of what ive seen and read

The thing about Peter is, he's a guy. Maybe not by _some_ definitions, but definitely by his own. He's certainly not a girl of any sorts (and, yes, he does see the irony when Flash teases him for looking like a boy).

Peter tells himself it'll get better, that life will one day be easy, but that doesn't make the present any easier to deal with. No matter how often he's teased about looking like a boy, he doesn't actually pass as anything more than a butch lesbian. Aunt May has loudly spoken of supporting gay people a lot since even before he cut his hair. Actually, he is gay, just not the way she thinks he is.

There is, however, one thing that keeps him sane. And, okay, maybe it sounds a little _in_ sane, but that thing is putting on his Spidey suit, fighting crime, and spinning webs. Yeah, Peter will admit that makes him sound completely crazy, but inside the Spidey suit is the only place he never gets misgendered. He pads the suit for muscles, binds, uses a packer, and deepens his voice as much as he can.

Aunt May, of course, has no idea about Spider-Man. Maybe she would have guessed if he was a cis guy, but the biggest secret she thinks he's keeping is that he's a lesbian. Possibly, that he's dating either Mary Jane or Gwen. (Which is very funny, because they're dating each other.)

In fact, not even Mary Jane or Gwen know he's a guy. Not even Harry Osborn. He knows they'd probably be fully supportive and accepting, but he just. Can't. There's been a few times he's come close to saying it, but his heart will start palpitating, and his breath will go funny, and by then it's already too late to be able to say it.

With all of that being said, it's kind of hard to believe that _Tony Stark_ himself knows him to be a guy. And Captain America too. The man from Uncle Ben's old comics. (And doesn't the thought of Uncle Ben make Peter feel unhappy. He died thinking he had a niece called Penny.)

* * *

"Penny! I made you breakfast!" his Aunt May yells.

Peter sighs silently. "Coming."

His breakfast turns out to be hastily made waffles. It's one of Peter's favourites, but not even waffles can make up for the way Peter's stomach twists at the sound of _that_ name. When Peter kisses his Aunt goodbye, it feels sad. He can tell she feels it too. Neither of them mention it. Peter skates to school.

"Hey Penny!" says Gwen as soon as she sees him, pinkie finger subtly linked with Mary Jane's.

"Hey." Peter responds despondently. Mary Jane and Gwen catch on immediately to how he feels. They exchange The Look. Uh oh.

"Penny," Peter tries not to flinch at the sound of the name "we know something's been bothering you, but we can't help if you don't tell us what it is. Harry's worried about you too, y'know."

Peter laughs insincerely. "I'm fine, guys."

Mary Jane shakes her head. "Penelope May Parker-" she pauses as Peter visibly recoils.

"Penny," she says, this time much softer "what's going on?"

Peter shakes his head. "Listen, not now, okay. Just ... ugh ... meet me here after school okay. We can talk then."

_Why in fuck's name did I just say that_ , Peter thinks.

But Peter can already see how relieved Gwen and MJ are just to hear that, so he can't bring himself to take it back.

* * *

"Ugh." Harry says as he picks at his lunch.

Gwen rubs his shoulder. "It's okay, Har. You'll be able to move out soon, so just hold on till then."

"Easy for you to say." Harry groans.

"Hey," Peter says, biting his lip softly "what's going on?"

Harry looks up. "It's my dad again. Another ... another gay rant. He keeps telling me how he doesn't want a faggot for a son."

"Shit, Harry." Peter says. He doesn't know what else to say.

Harry nods. "Shit."

Mary Jane gives him a hug. "Hey, it's fine. I'm moving ASAP too. We can be roomies. "

"Sure. Bad dad roommates. Go team."

MJ and Harry share smiles that are closer to grimaces.

Peter feels guilty for even considering his problems to be worth listening to. He might be a closeted trans guy, but shit, at least there's no one he cares about who rants about how much trans guys should die.

* * *

"So, what is it, Penny?" Gwen asks, sharing a troubled look with Mary Jane.

Peter lets his head fall back to face the sky. He's going to say it. He thinks this could possibly be scarier than the first time he went out as Spider-Man.

"I'm." he says. MJ and Gwen look expectantly at him. He does not know how to say this. Why the fuck did it seem like a good idea?

"I'm not ... Penny.

It's not what either of them gad expected him to say. Well, neither had expected any one specific thing, but that was far away from anything they had considered.

MJ cleared her throat. "Uh, Pe- sorry ... what do you mean by that?"

He tilts his head further back. On some strange level, he felt like if he tilted his head far enough, it would fall off.

"I'm Peter. Not Penny. Please." is all he can force out.

The following silence makes the world seem like it's been put on pause. Not even the birds are making a sound. All he can hear is his own heartbeat drowning out the world.

Gwen, the _angel_ , is the one who breaks the heavy silence. "What are your pronouns, Peter?"

He could cry with relief.

"He, him, his. But you can't use them around other people. No one knows."

At the same time, Gwen and MJ step forward and hug Peter. He fidgets uncomfortably at the contact, but smile and hugs back.

"What about your aunt? Does she know?" MJ asks him quietly.

He shakes his head.

* * *

That night, Spider-Man is doing well. He's just webbed three robbers to a wall. He's about to swing away when his Spidey-sense goes _insane_.

He freezes on the spot.

His head is ... pounding in pain. It's almost enough to stop him, except he knows whatever is out there is his responsibility. Even if it's too much for him, he can do a hell of a lot more than the average civilian. It's not like the Avengers are gonna come to deal with stuff like what he does, after all.

Peter follows his Spidey-sense to a warehouse, shoulders tense and raised, teeth gritted.

He can hear muffled screaming from inside. Very scared muffled screaming.

Despite how ... unsanitary it looks, Peter climbs the walls of the warehouse, up to the second floor. There's a broken window, and if he's careful enough, he can probably get in without ripping his suit.

He manages to get through the window with only a _tiny_ , tiny sewable rip on his thigh.

Inside the warehouse is ... kind of cliché. The only source of light is the moon, and the windows cast odd shadows over the room, and there's at least one family of rats scurrying around, probably woken up by Peter himself. The most suspect thing in the room is the large quantities of unmarked crates. As Peter said, cliché.

From inside, the screams are less muffled, but that's enhanced hearing for you. They're coming from the first floor, that he knows, but he has no idea where he can get down from. -Well, that's a lie. The floor is rotted enough that he could fall through it.

Peter elects to use walls instead of the floor.

He makes it across two walls without incident.

_"Where. Is. Your. Boss?"_

Peter doesn't jump because of the fright whoever yelled that gave him. It's totally just his Spidey-sense.

Yep, his Spidey-sense made him jump right onto the very weak, very rotten floor.

...There it is. The sound of his body hitting the ground, the next floor down.

Peter stays down.

"Are you seeing this too?" the shouting guy says, except to Peter it sounds more like "errr yuseen istoo".

The screaming person just makes some sounds that make Peter's head hurt. He opens his eyes, but can't make any sense of the shapes and colours.

His eyes close again.

* * *

Peter scrunches his nose. It smells ... well, funky would be an understatement. He shifts onto his side.

"Ah! Shit!"

He can't remember why, but his ribs hurt like a motherfucker. Just breathing is agony.

"You're awake, baby boy!" calls an unfamiliar voice.

Peter's eyes fly open.

He's not in his room. He's lying on a stained sofa-he doesn't want to imagine what caused _those_ -in his boxers and a shirt that is definitely not his own. There's a coffee table that's covered in old food wrappers, magazines, and guns-a _lot_ of guns-in front of him, and behind him the wall is littered with bullet holes, bloody stains, and some posters.

Standing in what looks like the doorway to a kitchen is a man dressed in a red and black leather suit, with two katanas on his back, and a pink apron that has "kiss the cook" written in darker pink sharpie.

_What the fuck?!_


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> woah didnt expect so many people to read this.. u guys are the coolest.

"Who are you?" Peter says after several moments of awkward, awkward silence.

Somehow, despite wearing a mask, the guy's eyes widen. "Who, lil ol' me?" he asks in an exaggerated Southern accent. "Why, I'm Deadpool, but you can call me."

This time he winks, casually breaking the laws of the universe with not so much as a shrug.

Suddenly, Peter remembers what happened before he passed out. His hands fly to his face.

"You took my _mask_ off!"

Deadpool shrugs. "I was curious. I was also checking your head for injuries, but mostly curious. I gotta say--didn't expect you to be so young. Your momma know you do this?"

Peter glares at him.

"Well," Deadpool says "I told you who I am, so ... a name would be nice. So'd your kik, but that'd be extra. Hmm maybe you'd like my real name first? It's Wade Wilson, please give me your kik."

Peter continues his glaring. "I'm protecting people with the mask. It'd be counterproductive to give you my name, especially after you've seen my face "

Wade pouts. Peter's inner scientist wonders how he does it with a goddamn leather mask on.

"A first name couldn't hurt. After all, I helped you after you passed out, and I didn't even _try_ to find you online."

A few seconds pass tensely before Peter sighs.

"Peter. It's Peter. And that's a name that only four people, including me and you, know. You probably noticed, I don't have a body doctors that classified as male when I was born."

Deadpool squealed and jumped on the spot. "Spider-Man told me a secret!" he muttered gleefully, seemingly unaware of the fact that Peter could hear him.

"...What do you mean he only said that because we can't find him online with his name? ... Come on, White, don't be a part pooperrr-- _no we will not torture him for information!_ How could you _say_ that, Yellow?! Gah!"

Peter is starting to get a _teeny tiny_ bit scared. He's aware that right now, if it came down to it, Deadpool would be able to beat him. _With ease_. He's injured enough for it to seriously impact his fighting skills, and he doesn't even know if he'd normally be able to beat him. After all, the only reason he's here is because his Spidey Sense was so strongly affected by Deadpool. Right now, though, it's not telling him he's in any immediate danger.

_Grrrhhhhgg_

Peter and Deadpool both jump at the sound Peter had never realised his stomach could make.

"Ah! The pancakes!" Deadpool screams. "I need to feed you!"

He runs into the kitchen and grabs a pan he'd left over the flame. "Burned! Goddamnit! Fuck!"

There's an ominous crashing sound.

"Uh ... D-Deadpool?" Peter croaks out.

He hears a grunt from the kitchen. "...Yessss?"

"Are -are you okay in there?"

Silence. And then, "......Yes?"

After 10 minutes of screaming and baking noises, Deadpool comes out with a stack of Mickey Mouse pancakes piled higher than should have been possible. They're dripping with syrup. He shoves them at Peter.

"You're way too skinny, Spidey!"

Peter frowns, but starts eating. "I'm a good size, dickhead."

Wade just snorts.

_Oh, shit,_ Peter thinks.

"What day is it?" he asks, voice high and strained. He's so freaked out he doesn't even notice how the pancakes slowly change from Mickey Mouse to dick shaped.

Deadpool cocks his head. "Lemme think .... yesterday was Friday, so todays Saturday."

_Oh, shit._

"I ... passed out Thursday night, didn't I?"

Deadpool nods.

"Ff _uck_!"

* * *

When Peter gets home--after literally about an hour (his sense of time is ... well, tragic at least) of assuring Deadpool he'll be alright--he's exhausted. His ribs hurt like hell, his ankle is twisted, his face is bruised, and worst of all, he. Has. No. Cover. Story.

He's already broke into his room so he's wearing his own clothes, so at least he doesn't have to explain those to May.

Honestly, Peter's got no fucking clue how he'll explain away being gone from Friday morning to Saturday night. Fugue? Kidnappers? Fucking aliens? All his ideas are shit.

"Okay, okay, calm down, Peter. Your were only gone two days," he tells himself, "Aunt May will only feel worse the longer you.... Why am I talking in the second person? That's straying into villain territory, jeez..."

He gathers all his courage--which, to be honest, isn't exactly much at the moment--and opens the front door.

"Hi, Aunt May..." he squeaks out, voice _totally_ not breaking.

"Penny! Where have you been?! I've been so worried!"

Peter is bombarded not only with hugs, but also huge amounts of guilt that gnaw up through his stomach into his heart.

It's obvious what Aunt May had been worried about. After Ben's death she wouldn't be able to handle another family member dying. Well, Peter officially feels like the worst nephew in the history of Earth.

Aunt May pulls back to take a look at him and gasps. "Penny, what happened?"

He shakes his head, biting back a shudder at his deadname. "It's nothing. Just got in a fight is all."

"With who?" his aunt's voice is suddenly sharp.

"Just some guys. I dunno their names."

"Some..." she stops herself abruptly and shakes her head. Peter can see her tears. "Penny. I don't know whats happened to you ... I know Ben's death has been hard on you, but you can't go on like this. Getting in fights, staying out late, skipping school--yes, I know about that--and keeping all these secrets. It has to stop."

If Peter thought the guilt before had been bad, this was torturous. Shit, he's even crying a little too.

His aunt pauses for a second. "Penny ... is it drugs?"

He shakes his head. "I'm sorry I made you worry so much."

* * *

He gets to stay off school for a few days after that, but he feels so guilty around his aunt it's actually a relief to go back.

When Flash sees him, he's shoved painfully against his locker. "Why were you away, Parker? Your girlfriends missed you."

"Fuck off, Eugene."

Unsurprisingly, that doesn't help. Nor does the crushing guilt of calling someone a name they no longer go by. What does help, however, is Gwen punching Flash hard enough to make him fall.

"Move over, Thompson. You're taking up valuable breathing space."

Flash growls, then backs off, grumbling under his breath.

"Hey, Pete. You okay?" Gwen asks as soon as Flash is gone.

Peter nods. "Yeah. He missed the worst bits."

At those words, Gwen looks closer at Peter, inspecting his mostly healed face, uncomfortable stance, and his ankle he wasn't walking on properly. "Shit, what happened?!"

Peter rubs the back of his neck, "Well, that's a ... long story. We have. Classes. Important classes where we learn. I can't stop your education to tell you about that."

Gwen shakes her head. "I thought you were finished hiding stuff from me."

_Oh shit_ , Peter thinks, _here comes the Guilt Express. Departure: now, destination: life._

"Come on Gwen. Aunt May's already been through it with me about this." he says, willing her to drop the subject.

_Brrring_

Peter jumps. "Bye Gwen, gotta go. You heard the bell. Bye!"

He's in math before she can compose herself enough to respond. Literally, saved by the bell. Apparently after awful accidents, the infamous Parker luck gets reversed. Something about karma, maybe?

Unfortunately, Parker luck can't make his math teacher any more bearable. Or less shouty. And shouty, after what has been dubbed by Peter as The Spidercident™, could as be described as torturous. Imagine sensitive ears but cranked up to eleven.

* * *

 Peter avoids his friends the rest of that day. At break he hides in the toilets and at lunch he skips on eating and goes out for a very, very quick patrol as Spidey. He doesn't find any criminal activity, but he does stop for a few selfies with fans.

When he gets back to school instead of going to biology, the one class he shares with Gwen, MJ, and Harry (who's still in the dark about his gender), he goes to the nurses office with a "migraine". His head isn't much worse than it normally would be with all of the loud, loud sounds, bright things, and his over-awareness of anything tactile, but all he has to do to be let in is let how that feels show through.

He's about to turn of his phone so he has an excuse to ignore his friends messages when he gets a text.

**From: (xxx) xxx xxxx**  
heyyy baby boy

**To: (xxx) xxx xxxx**  
think u got the wrong number bro

**From: (xxx) xxx xxxx**  
:( r u tellinv me ur not spidey :(((((

Peter jumps up from his seat, but he sits back down in case the nurse sees him. "What the fuck. _What_ the _fuck_. What _the fuck. What_ **the** ** _fuck_**."

**To: (xxx) xxx xxxx**  
um yeah?? who even are u??

**From: (xxx) xxx xxxx**  
itsa me! dp!

Peter raises an eyebrow. That is a _highly_ suspect name to give out.

**To: (xxx) xxx xxxx**  
um???? dp????

**From: (xxx) xxx xxxx**  
baby boy did u think i meant what i think u think i meant

**From: (xxx) xxx xxxx**  
thats adorable :')

**From: (xxx) xxx xxxx**  
its deadpool tho sorry to disappoint

Peter sets the name to fuckface for that.

**To: fuckface**  
how did u get my number

**From: fuckface**  
:'( rnt u happy i have ur number petey

**To: fuckface**  
read: 2:17 pm

**From: fuckface**  
:'( ur so mean

**From: fuckface**  
ur phone was in ur suit so i gave me ur number

**To: fuckface**  
its not cool to give urself other ppls numbers dude

**From: fuckface**  
ur so borung spidey boy

**From: fuckface**  
what r u wearing ;)))

**To: fuckface**  
no

Peter can hear the nurse walking back into the sickbay so he turns his phone off and works on an artfully pained expression. It works and she leaves him alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for reading pls comment/kudos/bookmark, ill luv u
> 
> anyway guys. what the fuc. im thinkin abt binding while fighting and like. fucking ouch man. listen i cracked my rib a few months ago but i didnt realise until 2 days later and the whole time id been binding and it fucking hurt. i had to give up binding for like a month and a half or i felt like i was dying. i couldnt even get bread bc the shelf was higher than i could reach w/o feeling like the gates of hell had opened directly on my rib.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry i didnt update i was depressed. anyway, can u guys tell i have no fuckening clue what new yorks like lmao. ive never even set foot in america
> 
> tw for flashbacks and panic attacks in this chap. i dont think its anything too explicit, but be careful if that could trigger you

That night he avoids going out as Spidey. It pisses him off, he knows it's probably for the best, because his rib's still fucking painful, and just binding is hard enough. Fighting while binding his probably cracked rib would be harmful to him in a way he wouldn't be able to tell himself is just recklessness.

Instead of doing anything to make himself feel less depressed about not going out, Peter turns on his phone and reads all the texts his friends sent him.

As expected (Peter really has no idea what he thought he would achieve by obsessing over the texts), he feels even worse than he did before. He has no idea what to do to make it up to his friends, but he figures a text is a good start.

**To: MariJuana, harry potter, and science buddy**  
im sorry guys. theres just a lot goin on rn

**From: MariJuana**  
jsyk gwens gonna kick ur ass into yesteryear broseph :)

**From: MariJuana**  
u should consider urself lab partnerless for atleast a week

_Well,_ Peter thinks, _I done fucked up._

And so he stares at his phone hoping Gwen or Harry will grace him with a response till he falls asleep at his desk.

When he wakes up he's in a tiny puddle of his own drool and very angry. He doesn't really know exactly  _why_ he's angry, til he remembers his dream and then he's unsure if he wants to laugh or scream.

Normally this is when he'd text Gwen, but there's at least 95% chance in this situation that she'll call him and yell. Peter unlocks his phone anyways and scrolls through the contacts once, twice, and a third time, before he puts it down and just. Screams a little bit. Quietly, so he doesn't wake Aunt May up since it's--he checks his phone--3:17am.

He looks at his poorly hidden Spidey suit. "Fuck it. Guess I'll be wearing you tonight after all...--Oh my God that sounded terrifying."

He pulls the suit on, struggling with the binder against his cracked rib, then slides out of his window. It's a bit of a risky move, but since everyone thinks that Spider-Man is a cis guy, it's not too awful for him to leave from his own house every now and then. Still, he's in stealth mode (pun _fully_ intended) till he reaches one of his usual patrol spots.

There's nothing much going on (it's Wednesday ... technically Thursday at like half three in the morning, Peter doesn't know what he had expected going on patrol) but after a while of swinging around he finds a guy robbing a convenience store. It seems a little pointless to Peter, because he knows that that store has been in financial trouble for a while now, and if you're gonna rob someone, it might as well be someone with money to rob, but whatever. Each to his own.

He lands on the display window and slowly opens the door. His Spidey sense buzzes softly just before the door squeaks loudly enough that Peter wonders if the entire universe is plotting to ruin him, not with extreme and awful things, but tiny annoyances that add up and up and _who in fuck's name leaves a door to get that squeaky before oiling it?!_

The masked thief looks at the door. "Turn the fuck arou--Spider-Man?!"

He pulls out a gun.

_Nonononononononononononononononono_

Webs fly from his wrists, faster than he can process it. His brain lags behind his body and all he can see is webs in the air--and _gun_ \--and Ben--shots ringing in his ears--blood on the ground.

"Spider-Man?!"

He blinks, breath coming out in heaves that his binder can't really facilitate.

"Are you okay, Spider-Man?"

It's coming from behind the counter--the unfortunate person who got this ridiculous shift at fuck-knows in the morning.

Peter breathes in till he can feel the binder hurting his lungs. "I'm fine! I'm fine."

He's trying to convince himself more than the shopkeeper.

Normally, he's okay with guns--actually, not _okay_ , but he can deal with how they make him feel. Today he's just. Very. Worn out.

The criminal has been webbed up too tight to get away, so he blurts out a goodbye to the shopkeeper before running away. They can call the cops on their own, anyway. They're an adult.

* * *

Peter finds himself on a dirty rooftop, breathing fast, but slower than before. He focuses on the ground beneath his feet. The roof is a disgusting shade of grey that's periodically interrupted by bird crap and random debris of dubious origin. There are no fewer than fifteen cigarette stubs littering the cement, and one almost full pack that looks like it's been sitting there for a long time.

He crouches down and wraps his arms around his knees until his breathing turns normal again, just staring at the dirty roof. He could almost fall asleep like that. Instead he pulls his phone from the hidden pocket in his suit and, after several moments of deliberation, texts Deadpool.

**To: fuckface**  
are u awake

Peter doesn't really expect a reply, it's 4:17 am after all, so he's surprised when his phone buzzes.

**From: fuckface**  
whats wrong baby boy

**To: fuckface**  
can i meet u. please.

_Why did I let myself say that_ , Peter thinks. Meeting with Deadpool would only help him avoid his friends even more.

Actually, that's exactly what Peter wants to happen. Drama is _so_  not Peter's thing and he avoids (non-violent) conflict like the plague.

**From: fuckface**  
u ok petey? where u at??

**To: fuckface**  
im on the roof of that one rly fugly apartment complex next to the best hot dog stand in queens. u kno the one, w barry who gives out free hotdogs somtimes

It has been speculated, by someone who is not Peter at all, that Barry is a literal angel who deserves all of the money. Unfortunately, Peter owns approximately none of the money, hence the free 'dogs.

**From: fuckface**

imon my way

It's kind of hysterical that the building is ugly enough for Deadpool to know which one he's talking about, but then again, Barry's hot dogs _are_ amazing.

After about a half hour wait that seemed to drag on endlessly, Peter's enhanced hearing picks up the sound of running and muttered curses.

"Hi." Peter says once Deadpool's on the roof.

Deadpool runs up to him. "Petey. Baby boy. You don't look so good."

Peter smiles, then realises that Deadpool can't see it. "I'm just. Tired."

He's wrapped up in a hug before anything more can be said.

"Lets go to mine and play Mario Kart. I'll order pizza!" Deadpool yells suddenly. Peter nods.

* * *

"So," Peter says, stomach a-growling, "about that pizza....."

He's sitting sideways on the ratty sofa, his feet resting by Deadpool's thighs. His mask is off, and they're on their sixth round of Mario Kart which is, in a word, brutal. Combined, they have fallen off Rainbow Road more times than they have fingers, and toes, and hands, and so on.

Deadpool leans to the side as he skids. "...don't fall don't fall do--MOTHER OF MARY--sure, I'll order some Domino's, what d'ya want? ...Why in fuck's name did you choose Rainbow Road?"

"Uh... margarita. Don't throw that shell at me you piece of shit....JESUS H. CHRIST, WADE!"

Wade ends up winning that game. And the one after.

"So, uh, Spider-Pete," Deadpool says, "now you're full of rage from that, uh ... do you wanna tell me what's wrong?"

The pizzas are on their way, and Peter can't think of any way to stall the awkward conversation he's about to have.

He clears his throat. "My uncle--he. He got shot before I became Spider-Man. I saw it. It was my fault that it happened, and, and, and now sometimes. I. When I see guns, I. Fuck, I dunno, I'm just ... there again. And I'll see him d- _die_ again."

Peter coughs awkwardly and scrubs away any hints of water from his eyes. "Look, today was hard enough, then a guy pulled out a gun and I just. I just. I just couldn't. I freaked out, pulled the gun away, and bailed as soon as I could. I wasn't really _there_ after he pulled out the gun anyway."

Deadpool, carefully broadcasting his movements to not startle Peter, leans forward and envelops him in a constrictor-tight hug. Pete sniffles into his neck, and despite the masked mercenary smelling like some unpleasant mix of gunpowder, BO, and Mexican food, and being a, well, _masked mercenary_ , it feels like he's finally somewhere safe. Somewhere he can be himself.

"Petey," Deadpool croons, "you didn't deserve that."

Peter cracks a rictus grin into the junction of Deadpool's shoulder and laughs bitterly. "No, I probably didn't."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry its so angsty im taking out my sadness on peter. also guys i realised i dont really ship spideypool so thisll probably end up being spideytorch. therell still be spideypool in this itll just not be permenant.
> 
> my tumblrs paraboia if anyone wants 2 follow
> 
> if u liked it leave a comment/kudos blease


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ive had this written fr almost a month sorry for not posting earlier but i was having a breakdown then it was my birthday and then i had another breakdown on my birthday. anyway heres some happy times then some angst
> 
> also i changed my mind yet again theres gonna be no spideypool at all in this fic other than pete having an on and off crush on deadpool. ive edited the tags but now theyre weird lmao
> 
> also also i have like no experience w writing harry and whenever i see him his characters different so tell me if i fucked him up really bad

That morning Peter woke curled up on Deadpool's ratty sofa, a half eaten pizza lying in it's open box next to him, and he decides that fuck it. No school for sad Peter.

Instead he pulls out his phone, opens tumblr (he can't stop himself, it's ruined his life) and scrolls until he feels a little less like he's going to die if he gets up. Ugh, mornings. Gotta hate 'em.

Eventually, his growling stomach makes him stand, and he wanders over to the kitchen. Deadpool doesn't seem to be in, but he figures he's alright making them a little something to eat.

Going in, it's--okay, there is _no_ nice way to put it--it's a mess. There are dirty dishes stacked up that look like an experiment in growing mould, suspicious stains _everywhere_ , and food that looks like it's been rotting for at least three days. At. Least.

Well.

Peter understands that Deadpool has more than his fair share of issues, so he's not judging that much.

But still, he is ... considerably less hungry than he was before he'd gone in the kitchen. But he knows what to do; his Aunt didn't raise him without manners, so when he spots a bottle of washing up liquid covered in dust, he gets a-cleaning. Plus it's the perfect repayment for his breakdown _and_ needing Deadpool to look after him when he fell through the warehouse.

He tries to not think about the warehouse, though, because he does _not_ want to think about how much his Spidey-sense had been set off. There was one obvious answer as to who had caused it to go haywire, and he was not letting himself acknowledge that the guy who had patched him up and helped him through his breakdown was the same guy who had been torturing someone. Nope, no way.

* * *

"Heyyyy, Petey!" Wade yells, stamping his way through the door, "I brought us breakfast burritos!"

"Oh my god, thank you! You just saved my life!" Peter yells back.

They smell _good_ , and Peter has to remind himself to dry his hands (on his suit, eugh, but he can't see any clean towels around) before he ends up with a dishwater flavoured burrito.

"This is so much better than dealing with my friends," he mutters to himself around a mouthful of burrito.

Deadpool raises an eyebrow that shouldn't be visible through his mask. Seriously, how does he do it? "You're ditching your friends to hang with me? You have some messed up priorities there, baby boy."

"You're my friend too, y'know. Even if you are a total dickhead when it comes to Mario Kart."

And if he gets a noogie for his kind words, it's worth it for the happy little grin Deadpool gives him.

* * *

When Peter leaves, there's nary a worry in his head. He's in a--in a _foolishly_ good mood and _nothing will stop him_. Or, at least, nothing short of Gwen, Harry, and MJ standing in front of his front door.

Uh oh.

"Hello."

Oh no. MJ is _never_ that pissed off at him.

"Uh....... When we go inside, I was hanging with you guys, okay? Then after Aunt May is out of hearing range we can uh, discuss, uhm. Whatever _this_ "--Peter waves an arm jerkily--"is."

MJ nods. "Fine. Gwen, Harry, come on."

With that she grabs Gwen's hand and strides into Peter's house, yelling a greeting in Aunt May's direction, Gwen walking alongside her, and Harry following behind like a lost duckling.

Well. Harry never did hear about the whole trans thing and expect Peter to suddenly stop not coming to school and getting lots of mysterious injuries.

Peter rushes in behind his friends. "We're gonna hang out in my room, Aunt May!"

"Don't just stay holed up in your room. Get them to have dinner with us at least!" she yells back.

"Fine!"

And then he's in the proverbial lions' den. Which just so happens to be his familiar bedroom. Which has a--

There is--

Oh dear.

His bedroom is _not_ hiding one of his Spidey suits.

 _God damn it can I never do anything right?!_ he thinks, mentally hitting himself upside the head, and, unknown to him, physically rending his hoodie-- _Deadpool's hoodie_ \--to shreds while _staring right at the incriminating evidence_.

"This," Gwen begins, once his bedroom door closes, "is an interven--Peter are you okay?!"

"Nnyyes!" he says, hyperventilating slightly.

Harry turns around and looks at him, one eyebrow poised high on his forehead. "Peter?"

Oh, shit. Harry _doesn't know._

"Uhhhhh." say Peter, MJ, and Gwen at once.

"Well, you see..."

"It's kind of a long story."

"Uhhhhhhhhh."

Harry desperately looks at the floor as he realises what just happened. And his eyes land _on Peter's Spidey suit._

"Pe-- _eter?!_ " Harry says, staring at the suit.

Gwen and MJ turn simultaneously. " _Peter?!_ "

Oh _no_.

" _It's not what it looks like!_ "

Gwen shakes her head furiously as if to clear her mind. "This is--this is _exactly_ what it looks like!"

Harry turns around. "I have no fucking clue what's going, but _that_ is what it looks like."

MJ is the last to react. "So......you, puny Parker, the total nerd with no athletic ability whatsoever, are _Spi_ \--"

Peter hushes her furiously, " _Sshhhhhh!_ "

"-- _You're Spider-Man?!_ "

Peter. Peter is. Uh, having a few, uh, technical difficulties with his brain.

"I. Uhh. Em. You--err. _Nno_?"

"Yeah," Harry mutters, "you have me convinced. Spider-Man? In here? No way."

Peter groans like a dying whale and flaps his hands around. "Shut up, asshole."

There's a silent moment where everything is finally _quiet_ , and then Gwen, the literal devil, asks, "So, Pete, who's clothes are you wearing?"

"Nope!" Peter shoves his hands over his ears, "This is all just a _really_ bad dream!"

"Penny, what's going on in there?"

"Guh! Nothing, Aunt May!"

He grimaces. That name always feels so _wrong_.

MJ grabs his hand comfortingly. "Sorry," she says, face twisted in sympathy.

"Sooooo," Harry says, "you're trans?"

Peter nods.

"Knew my gaydar wasn't broken with you." he says, and.

Wow.

Harry--Harry just. Did he practice being casual when important things were announced?!

Peter lunges at Harry for a hug with all the grace of a baby giraffe. "Thank you, bro."

"Don't sweat it. So, Peter and he, him pronouns?"

Peter nods, and he finally feels _free_. Ta ta for life, keeping secrets from friends.

Harry clears his throat. "So, who's the man? You've gotta tell us what kind of boyfriend Spider-Man has."

And there goes the blushing. "Well--uh, we're just. We're just friends, yanno?"

MJ raises a perfect eyebrow, " _Just_ friends? Why aren't you in your own clothes then?"

"Fine, okay, I was on patrol, so--so we hung out after, and I ended up skipping school, but I couldn't just _go home_ wearing the _suit_. So Wade leant me his clothes like good friend."

No particular stress on that last word, no sirree.

"Wade, huh?" Gwen smirks, "you have a superhero 'friend' called Wade. And what's his _other_ name?"

"Uh, uhhh, well--" Peter clears his throat, "um, he's. Wellllll, um. Deadpool."

"Don't know him," MJ and Gwen say, perfectly in sync.

Harry, on the other hand, is paling rapidly. "Deadpool?! Of all the possible-- _Deadpool_ is who you choose?!"

Peter meeps quietly, and nods.

"Do you _know_ what he does?!"

Another meep, with a shake of his head.

Harry looks him dead on. "Peter, he is a mercenary. He _kills people_ for money!"

Oh no.

"But--he's so nice to me..."

Peter thinks he's going to throw up.

At least he doesn't still feel bad for lying to his friends.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hope u enjoyed, blease comment and kudos and bookmark im begging
> 
> follow me on tumblr: paraboia

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading, comment/kudos if you liked it please


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